


Broken

by Tony



Series: Broken Verse [1]
Category: Dark Knight Rises (2012)
Genre: Angst, Barebacking, Blood being used as lubricant, Excessive Violence, M/M, PWP, Rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-20
Updated: 2012-08-04
Packaged: 2017-11-10 08:37:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/464330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tony/pseuds/Tony
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blake is kidnapped and made to be Bane's Pet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I had to write this as soon as I left the theater because I'm a sick fuck who enjoys seeing beautiful boys being destroyed. If you don't like it, fine, but if you're going to comment just to say you don't like it, I'd at least like concrit. Thanks. Enjoy xoxo
> 
> unbeta'd btw, as all my work is.

John held his gun steady, pointed directly at a dirty, scruffy man in front of him who looked pissed. “Get down on the ground!” he barked, and when the man didn’t listen he cocked his gun. He knew the man was one of Bane’s lackeys, henchmen, and he’d been lucky to catch him alone. Maybe he could get some information from him about Bane’s whereabouts -

The world went black as a white hot pain shot through his skull, the familiar feel of the cold butt of a pistol, and he was out before he even hit the ground. 

\+ +

\+ +

Rousing groggily from a fitful sleep, John moaned, a splitting headache and a pain in his (bound?!) wrists causing his bleary, addled brain to sluggishly jump into gear. He was on his stomach, naked, hands bound behind his back with zip ties, and he seemed to be lying on a cot in a dim musty room, a raggedy blanket under him. The young man’s skin prickled, goosebumps breaking out down his neck, arms, and back as he sucked in a fearful shallow breath of air.

“I see you’ve finally awoken,” a muffled voice with a strange accent said and John’s gaze snapped to a table across the room where a tall, thickly muscled bald man with no shirt and a strange mask on sat, delicately fingering a pistol in his large hands. “No need to panic, Mr. Blake. It’s just you and me. And I don’t plan on killing you.”

John’s heart was beating like hummingbird wings in his chest, his tongue not quite wanting to work in his mouth. What did he say to such a thing? He was feeling over exposed, uncomfortable, and more afraid than he’d ever been in his life. “Bane,” he whispered dumbly when his mouth decided to work again.

“Yes, that would be me,” the masked man replied and straightened in his chair, staring at the slender, tanned young man on the bed across the small room. There was silence other than the sound of running water in the background, the sound of waterfalls in the sewer, and neither of them spoke for awhile until Bane sighed, a bit of a wheeze to his muffled voice, and came to sit beside John on the bed. He looked down at the man under him, his breathing audible as he admired John’s beautiful skin in all of its youthful glory. John’s tanned shoulder blades were speckled with freckles, a beauty mark here and there, and Bane couldn’t help but reach out with his large hands and ghost his fingers down the center of Blake’s back. 

Clenching his eyes shut, John resisted the urge to throw up. He felt nauseous with fear, fear of Bane’s looks, of those muscles, of the fact that Bane could snap his neck with the barest of touches, and God there was a hand on his hip now, gentle and unfamiliar, and John almost sobbed. He missed his ex girlfriend all of a sudden, her pale skin and long brown hair, and fuck he should have treated her better, and if he lived through this he’d have to call her up and tell her he was sorry for ever treating her badly. 

Bane’s eyebrows raised in vague amusement. John’s body had begun to tremble, shoulder blades tensed and knuckles white on clenched fists. “You’re a beautiful creature, Blake. Beauty should never be taken for granted,” Bane wheezed quietly, his other hand reaching up to stroke John’s temple. The slender man immediately turned his head away and Bane retracted his hand. “…I said I’m not going to kill you. But unfortunately for you that doesn’t mean I’m not going to hurt you.”

John was unable to speak as Bane lifted from the bed and he could hear the unbuckling of a belt, a zipper being pulled down, and oh God, oh no, fuck, please no…. More shuffling and the bed was sinking in with the added weight of Bane crawling behind him, hands infuriatingly gentle as they spread dark skinned thighs and slid between them. Bane’s hands were sliding up his thighs, up, up, and up to his ass, thumbs spreading his cheeks and he could no longer hold back a dry sob. 

Eyebrows furrowing in an almost apologetic curve, Bane let out another wheezed sigh and slid his dry thumb over the ring of muscle, circling. “This is going to hurt either way, but it’ll make things easier if you relax, Darling,” he stated, as if he were being helpful. Another sob came from John’s lips and he shrugged inwardly, his gaze dropping back down to the dark hold between the cleft of John’s cheeks. Without further warning, he dipped his thumb in and took a slow, deep breath at the heat and the immediate tightness. He was going to enjoy this thoroughly. 

Unsure as to how much time had actually passed, John had gone passed dry sobs and was outright yelping and groaning in severe discomfort as he was fingered dryly, his entire body tense and an unbearable ache deep in his ass. He needed to go to the bathroom, needed to puke, needed something to help his splitting headache, needed Bane to use some fucking lube of some sort, but all he could do was lie there and whimper like a useless puppy. He’d never felt more disgusted with himself in his life. 

Satisfied with the amount he’d played, the much larger man retracted his fingers, and crawled further up the bed, pulling John’s hips up and lining himself up to the already abused entrance of the smaller man. “You look even more beautiful right now you know. I can almost smell your fear.”

Even if he’d had a response to that, it would have died on his tongue as he cried out in an almost scream, Bane’s thick cock shoving into him and tearing his muscle on the first go. He was crying now, sobbing through whimpers and praying for death as Bane began to thrust, one large hand braced at his side on the bed and the other on John’s hip, fingers digging painfully into his skin. Everything was pain, the world was a blur of tears and wheezing grunts as Bane thrust faster, Blake’s blood acting as a terrible sort of lubricant to speed things along. 

Sweat dripped down Bane’s brow, his eyes half lidded in lust as he watched his bloody cock go in and out of John in jagged, hard thrusts. Blake’s shoulders were bunched, hands a dark shade, almost purple as they struggled against his bonds, and Bane wasn’t sure he’d seen a lovelier sight in his life. He’d never fucked Talia like this, had only made love, made sure never to hurt her, and she was beautiful in the throes of passion but this- this was entirely different, and as Blake sobbed in pain and frustration, Bane dropped down to bracket the young man between his large muscled arms. “My beautiful, beautiful Robin,” he wheezed, and then he was cumming inside Blake, filling him full. 

It was finally over, or at least John had expected it to be, and his sobs had finally died down as blood rushed in his ears and his entire body began to ache dully, numbly. Bane was pulling out of him as the thick cock softened, and John didn’t make a noise as the other man grunted and sat back at the side of the bed, panting. 

Bane sat silently for a moment, and then turned to look over his shoulder at the broken man on the bed. He turned and gently flipped the young man over, spreading his legs and dipping his fingers back inside the breached, bloodied hole. Blake grunted numbly, his eyes red from tears and unseeing. If Bane could, he would grin. Pulling his fingers out, he admired the red and white fluid on his fingers a moment before smearing them across John’s stomach. “You’re a caged bird now, Darling. You had better get used to it.”

John didn’t hear him. John didn’t see him. John was broken.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blake copes with his capture and we see just how Bane's been taking care of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, here it is- more to the story! A lot of people wanted to see this, I hope it doesn't disappoint. I suppose the end is left open in case I ever want to write more, but I've been having a bit of writer's block lately so depending on how long that lasts this may or may not be the last of it. If anything, I've got a prompt someone left me about these two that has nothing to do with this specific fic, so I'll be filling there here soon so don't worry, I'll at least be writing a bit more of this pairing even if it's not in this story verse. 
> 
> If there's any blatant errors, feel free to point them out. Again, I'm going off of movie!verse canon :)

It had been a week and Blake was still in captivity. Bane hadn’t fucked him again, had barely even spoken to him, and John was grateful but at the same time incredibly confused. He’d tried asking the bulky man why he was being kept, whether it was a case of ransom or if he was being used as bait, and Bane had only replied once, ignoring any other questions. “You are mine, I do not need a reason,” he’d said with absolute authority and then he’d left the room. 

John had never been held prisoner like this before, had never even bothered to entertain the thought of what would happen in such an event. It was, above all other things, embarrassing. Bane had strange men keep him clean, men with dirty hair and missing teeth, and they’d watch him as he used the bathroom, making sure he didn’t try to escape or kill himself. His hands were constantly tied, even while he was taking a shit and for the first few days he was sick with embarrasment as his captors wiped him clean after every stool, took a tooth brush to his mouth and cleaned his teeth, and even wiped his nose when he needed it. 

Bane was away most of the time. John had no idea what the villain was up to, and he’d given up on asking questions like where Bane had been or whether anyone was searching for Blake himself or not. And although Bane didn’t sleep with John (hell, John wasn’t sure if Bane slept at all), he would do little things to care for him. The cop would be startled out of a fitful sleep by a hand on his shoulder or arm or hip, and he’d breathe unevenly as cold thick fingers ran along his legs, danced over his neck before Bane would be wrenching Blake’s mouth open to examine his teeth as if the young man were some kind of animal. 

Blake thought maybe he was being played, maybe some kind of mind game was going on. He’d ask Bane what was going on as the larger man touched him, caressed his neck, his jaw, fingers lingering on Blake’s pelvis, his navel, but of course he’d never get a reply. 

One day Bane came into the small hot room and gathered John up, striding out into the open air of the network of sewers they were located in, and John instinctively turned and buried his face in Bane’s neck as filthy men stared and smirked at him. They came to a stop in front of an uncomfortable looking metal tub that made John’s hackles stand on end. Steam came off of the water that filled the tub and he began to struggle a little as Bane lowered him into the tub.

“No, I don’t need- Stop, please!” he begged, hissing painfully as he was set into water that was uncomfortably hot. His hands were still bound under him, and he gave Bane a pleading look, tears in his eyes again. “It’s too hot, please… Please make it stop!”

Sitting on the edge of the tub, Bane finally spoke, “But your skin is so nice and red now, look at it! Be thankful it’s warm at all, I could have just thrown you into the sewer water you know.”

It was so hot in the water, Blake’s shoulders hitched and his breath came out strained, his head feeling light and his eyes bleary as he cried. Bane scrubbed him down with soap and a dirty wash rag as he sobbed, and eventually his cries died down to hiccups as he laid his cheek against the side of the metal tub and waited for this horrible bath to be over. 

The scrubbing had stopped, and Blake let out an audible sigh of relief. Maybe Bane would get him out of this uncomfortably hot bath and take him back to the room. Unfortunately, things weren’t going to be that easy for the young man.

Looking up at the masked man, John felt his stomach drop when Bane stood and began to undress. John was shaking his head, shifting in the water to bring his knees to his chest, and as Bane’s fingers worked at his belt, John began to babble, “Don’t, please! You don’t have to do this, you don’t have to- I don’t want this!” 

Bane cocked his head as his pants dropped, now fully unclothed. “And what makes you think that I care whether you want it or not, little Robin?” he asked, an amused wheeze in his muffled voice. When John’s eyes widened and his mouth turned into a grimace of fear, Bane laughed and stepped into the tub.

“No!” cried John, almost a sob as he tried to turn away, but his wrists were still bound behind his back and the most he could hope to do was shimmy out of the tub and onto the cement ground under them. Hands were on his forearms, turning him around and he lashed out with a foot, kicking Bane hard in the face. A hissing was heard, like air escaping and the hands were gone all of a sudden. John opened his eyes to see Bane’s hand scrambling at his mask, trying to get one of the tubes back in place as it had seemed to knock loose. Bane looked pissed now, and Blake yelped as the other man was on him in an instant, back handing him hard across the jaw and then shoving him over onto his stomach with his face pressed to the side of the tub. 

“I don’t have time for your games, young man,” Bane was saying as he forced John’s hips into place, getting the police officer into position. “I can assure you, no matter how loud you scream, there isn’t going to be anybody down here that cares!”

And scream Blake did as he was suddenly thrust into, the water doing a horrible job of slicking the passage as Bane fucked into him hard and fast. His ass was aching badly in moments, the feeling of blood vessels tearing making him sob against the rusted metal under his cheek. Rough hands held his hips in place and water splashed everywhere as their bodies slammed together, the slap of skin obnoxiously loud and making John sick to his stomach. The cock in him felt so huge, felt like it was plugging him so full, too full, and even the occasional hit to his prostate that felt briefly incredible couldn’t make up for the absurd amount of discomfort he was in. 

Bane’s wheezing gasps were more audible as Blake’s sobs died down and the thrusts began to speed up. The muscled villain couldn’t get enough of the beautiful tanned boy under him, couldn’t help but love those sobs, the way they fell so easily from that pretty mouth. Blake’s shoulders were bunched, legs were shaking, and fingers twitching as Bane fucked him senseless, one large paw of a hand moving to John’s shoulder as he finally came, his thrusts jagged and erratic as he filled the tight abused hole with his cum. 

It was a blur to John after that, with Bane’s fingers in him, cleaning him out and brushing the flecks of metal and rust from his cheek. John could feel fingers in his mouth, touching gently to his tongue and he groaned in vague annoying, unable to register the chuckle that followed from his captor. 

“You will learn, it is better not to struggle. I am only as mean as you make me, Darling.”

Back in his room, Blake felt tired to the bone and just wanted to sleep. His skin was still so red, his hair damp, and his wrists were hurting from the plastic ties binding them. He was hungry, thirsty, tired of the musty smell of the mattress under him, and as he let his eyes slide shut, he felt the bed dip with Bane’s weight. Blake couldn’t find the strength to even flinch as a cold, gentle hand settled in his hair, and sleep finally overtook him as Bane pet his hair in what would have been an affectionate manner if it were anyone else doing it.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While the Cat is away, the Mice will play. 
> 
> Poor Blake. Will he ever catch a break?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh look another chapter :B
> 
> This was hard to write and I'm not sure why. Even with the enthusiastic reviews and comments (which really just had me all in a tizzy, you guys are way too nice) I was just blocked horribly with this chapter and wasn't sure what I wanted to do with it.
> 
> This may or may not be the last chapter depending on a few things. I go back to school on the 27th and I have 15 credit hours scheduled so I'll have little to no time to write, but I'll try my best to squeeze in more fiction of these two, whether it be more to this storyline or another one altogether. I have an epilogue for this planned already that WILL be written... but until then, I hope you enjoy this chapter and where I chose to take things. 
> 
> Beta'd for once! And spell checked haha. Crazy, right?

Blake wasn't sure what day it was, what time it was, whether it was light or dark outside. He'd grown used to the ever changing faces, the too-warm temperature of the room, the binds at his wrists. Would this ever end, or was he doomed to be a prisoner in these sewers for the rest of his life? That train of thought brought him to another question- how long would he even live? He had no way of knowing if Bane planned on killing him off, using him as bait, fucking the literal life out of him... John's life was in the hands of a madman and nothing was set in stone anymore.     
  
Bane hadn't showed his face in some days now, leaving Blake at the mercy of men with dirty hands and dirty hair, some who didn't even speak English and some he thought maybe he recognized but couldn't be sure. He was wasting away, his appetite almost nonexistent and his body weak. The bread they fed him wasn't old, the water they let him drink clear as crystal, but everything seemed sour when you were the fucktoy of a murderous villain.     
  
One thing John had appreciated, had been thankful to Bane for, was his warning against anyone who touched The Pet. One warning was all they had gotten, would ever get, and he'd promised that whosoever touched his little Robin inappropriately would pay for it. They all knew to listen to Bane, and for as long as he'd been there, no one had molested him more than a stray hand in his hair, a grope to his thigh, nothing seriously threatening, and John was grateful for that. Until someone decided to go against Bane's word. Or rather, a group of men.     
  
"Look at his mouth, those lips," one of the men was saying as they took a brush to his teeth. Bane made sure John was well kept as always, groomed properly. Another of the men scoffed. "That mouth goes to waste. It'd be great on my cock," drawled one of his captor's who sat nearby in a chair reading a dirty magazine. The other men snickered and snorted and Blake concentrated on keeping the little bit of food he'd eaten in his stomach. It was sickening listening to them talk as if he wasn't there.     
  
When his mouth was cleaned, John expected to be taken back to his own room to lay in bed as always, to be left alone to doze. Instead, two of the men had begun whispering to each other and casting glances his way. Blake stared at them with mild interest, waiting for them to escort him. Instead, they each took an end- one at his front, one at his back- and draped their arms around him, touched his naked body, and the fear was back in him now, a sweat breaking out on the back of his neck. "Get the fuck off me!" John blurted as fingers brushed the cleft of his ass.     
  
The man who'd been sitting in the corner with his magazine glanced up and gave John a wry smile. "Don't make me gag you. I'll do it if I have to, Princess."    
  
Blake paled and gasped as a hand went to his cock, began stroking it. No, no, Bane had told them, had warned them, why were they doing this, he wasn't some fucktoy to be passed around like this, why were these men touching him and... He began to hyperventilate as he was lowered onto the ratty couch nearby, sat in the lap of a bearded man with rank breath and rough fingerless gloves. Clenching his eyes shut seemed to be his best line of defense as hot mouths pressed to his neck, his shoulder, his thighs, his stomach.     
  
As he was shoved down on his stomach, nose pressed to the couch that reeked of piss and vomit, he couldn't help the tears that welled up in eyes. A handful of spit against his asshole and not even a finger in preparation had him wailing in pain as he was fucked by all three men in turn. All he could think of was Bane, and how he hoped the man would find out about this and kill these men. God willing, none of the men had any serious diseases.     
  
He was thrown onto his bed a few hours later, sore all over and completely fucked out, his eyes bloodshot from tears and throat raw from eventually being gagged. His ass burned, his thighs were sticky with dried semen and blood, and there were fresh bruises on his shoulders, ankles, and hips. If the thought of suicide hadn't scared him so much, he probably would have bit off his tongue and bled to death already.     
  
\-----    
  
More days went by. Bane was still absent, and the men had come back twice to fuck John, pounding him into the bed while they choked him into unconsciousness. He cried himself to sleep each night, praying to what ever God was up there and listening that he'd be found and rescued, that Batman would save him, and fitful dreams brought him visions of a savior not dressed in black, but instead one with a different sort of mask, muscles ungodly large, and rough hands too gentle for what they were used for.     
  
The last night his captors came to have their way with him, he didn't have the energy to cry, and as the last one came on his face, the white essence spraying across his mouth, landing in his hair and on his chin, he couldn't help but vomit. His sick got all over the bed, and as he dry heaved, a cock still in him, he was punched over and over as the men yelled at him, and Blake finally passed out in a pool of his own puke with his head bleeding almost as much as his rear.    
  
A door was slammed open and Blake shot awake again, a disgusting taste in his mouth and a splitting headache hammering at the back of his skull. It was Bane, standing tall and fearsome as ever, dragging a man by the scruff of his neck as he sauntered into the room. The man's head was bowed, his face dripped with blood as did his clothes, and John had shimmied up against the wall to watch whatever was about to take place.     
  
Bane hadn't made an appearance in days, and aside from maybe a darker tan on his skin, he seemed relatively the same. The muscled man stood beside John's bed, his wheezing breath audible and as intimidating as ever. Bane's eyes took in the form of John, the dried mess on his face, the bruises at his neck and on his legs, his black eye and the cut on his cheek. He didn't need to turn the officer over and check to see if he'd been molested, it was obvious Blake been severely mistreated while he was away.     
  
Letting out a long sigh, Bane lifted the bloodied pulp of a man in his grasp so that John could see his face. "This man has made some very serious claims. He seems to think that while I was away, a group of men had their way with you little Robin, and not only once, but many times in fact. Is there any truth to this? I admit you're looking to be in pretty poor condition compared to how I left you."    
  
Blake's heart raced in his chest, fists clenched in their ties behind his back. He looked from Bane's wide eyed inquisitive gaze to the badly beaten face of the man in question who, even under his swollen shut eyes and busted lip was very recognizable as one of the men who'd raped him. John was plastered against the wall as he breathed in short half-breaths, his eyes wide and wild and pleading for something, for all of this to end. He opened his mouth to speak, but couldn't bring himself to say anything, instead he just nodded as his face heated, his eyes averting at the memory of those men holding him down and fucking him while he screamed and cried.     
  
There was silence for a moment then, as if Bane was contemplating John's answer, and then the masked villain nodded and left the room, dragging the beaten up scruffy man behind him. John shook and let himself fall back to the bed, avoiding the dried puke and taking deep breaths to calm himself. Would Bane kill the men? Of course he would, that was a dumb question. Would it ever happen again? Would Bane leave for another outing and come back to find that more of his men had disobeyed orders? Would Bane be disgusted that Blake had been reduced to spoiled goods? John curled into a ball and turned to face the worn plaster, burying his face between the wall and the mattress. Maybe Bane would take finally kill him and this horrible captivity would be put to an end.     
  
Some time later, John had been staring off into space, having rolled off the bed and gone to sit on the floor to get further away from the feel of the soiled bed. He'd been dozing, his headache having finally waned, and had snapped to attention when the door swung open again. It was Bane of course, a strange almost cheerful twinkle in his eyes as he came to stand in front of John, sans jacket and fists covered in blood. The officer shrank back at the sight, expecting Bane to snatch him up and bring him to whatever fate that man had met.     
  
"Don't look so distressed my little bird! I bring you good news!" Bane wheezed happily, hauling John up by an arm and bringing him in close. They were almost the same height, John only a couple of inches shorter, but the mask Bane wore separated them by worlds. "Come. Let me show you."    
  
John was held close as they exited the room, a bloody paw of a hand on his hip as they walked. The metal under John's feet was cold and uncomfortable, broken in places, and luckily Bane's pace was even and unhurried lest John's poor bruised feet be in any more pain. Men looked away as they passed, bowed their heads and averted their eyes, and the crowd thickened as they neared a main wide catwalk of the sewer system. There was a circle of dirty bodies clothed in tatters and wielding guns, knifes, brass knuckles, all sorts of weapons. Blake expected to see a fight of some sort, but instead they all stood murmuring to each other as he and Bane approached and the circle opened to reveal 3 men on their knees with hands bound behind their backs. A lingering gaze revealed that they were the men who'd raped John, beaten him and pissed on him and touched him inappropriately. He looked away, his face unintentionally burying itself in Bane's neck.     
  
The hand at John's waist came up gently to land in his hair, petting him sweetly. "Look," he wheezed quietly, nudging the police officer. "They will bother you no more," Bane explained and then shifted out of John's side, his voice raising. "These men were entrusted with the care of my Pet. And they have disobeyed me. They dared lay hand on what is mine and now they are being made an example of."    
  
It was cold after Bane left, leaving Blake to stand, naked and shaking a yard or so away. He chewed his bottom lip nervously, watching as Bane asked, his eyes darting around the crowd to watch the proceedings.     
  
Bane turned back to his captive to make sure he was watching before turning back and raising a hand, motioning towards the three bound men. "Kill them.  _ **Slowly**_."    
  
The walls echoed with sadistic cheers as the dozens of men came down with fists and weapons on the three men, punching and beating and kicking and stabbing, and John had never seen anything more disgusting in his life. The blood thirst in the room was enough to bring up the small bit of food he'd been fed and he fell to his knees, shoulders hitching as he threw up the little contents of his stomach. He could hear the sick smacking of fists on bone from where he was, could hear the gurgling cries of the men pleading for their punishment to stop, and just as tears began to well up in his eyes, John was lifted from the ground, hauled up and hugged close to a largely built body, arms encircling him and holding him tight. He sobbed into Bane's chest like a child, disgusted with himself, with the men beating each other lifeless, with Bane.    
  
\--    
  
Another bath, this time with water that didn't burn his skin, and John was sunk low in the water, eyes glazed over as he stared off into space. Bane sat nearby in a hard metal chair, elbows on his knees as he watched Blake soak. The wheezing from Bane's mask had become less intimidating, more of a lulling background rasp, and if John was honest with himself, it was even a little comforting. As long as Bane was there, his overbearing presence choking the entire room, Blake knew he was safe.     
  
The thought made him want to shed more tears, but his eyes were already dry and scratchy, his ducts unable to squeeze out anymore tears. Here, in the sewers of Gotham, in a half rusted metal wash tub, Blake felt hope continually seep out of him. Even if the commissioner cared enough to search for him, even if Batman spared the time to somehow save him, Blake would forever remain a broken man.


End file.
